


attention

by inkraptor



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Gen, Light Angst, Pre-fall Overwatch, Slow Burn, Strike Commander Jack Morrison - Freeform, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkraptor/pseuds/inkraptor
Summary: He absolutely infuriated you. Called you names. Degraded your rank. Humiliated you in front of your teammates. You couldn’t STAND him.Sure, you were a new recruit, but he absolutely ABUSED his authority over you. It only fueled your rage, strove you to greater heights to push yourself over your limits.You wanted to prove him wrong.





	1. prologue

“Faster, Punk.”

His arms crossed, looked down at you, nose and chin held high. 

Fuck his authority.

“Protectors my ass…” You mumbled lowly, only to yourself.

You once looked up to him.

The so called Strike Commander of Overwatch.

Jack Morrison, he was a pain in your ass.

“What was that kid?” He barked, glaring. You didn't expect him to hear.

You huffed, still running your endless laps.

“Nothing…” You couldn’t stand this; running with your tail between your legs, every time.

“That’s what I thought.” A small, triumphant smirk tugged at his lips.

“Fucking bastard…” Left your lips after you were far enough from him to hear, pace picking up as you wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.


	2. one

“Give me 20 more, runt.”

Heave, after heave, after heave. Over and over and over.

You were getting sick. Literally.

Your body protested to the movement, wanted nothing more than to stop and lay down.

Wanted to vomit.

By now, the sun was setting over the horizon, everyone had finished, except you.

Like every other normal day (well, what you could consider normal), he kept you longer.

“My grandmother could do push-ups faster than you, and she’s dead.”

Sweat was rolling down your forehead in large droplets, your stomach seethed with fire. A heavy ache growing in your abdomen.

His words were only pissing you off. 

Somehow, it was the only motivation that made you finish those 20 more dreadful push-ups.

“That was awful rookie. I expect a better performance tomorrow. You better wake up early in the morning.” 

With that, he finally left you on the ground, collapsed and near catatonic, only taking painful gasp of breath to recover limply on the cool ground.

You were too tired to reply. There were no smart-ass remarks oozing out of your mouth.

You couldn’t even remember lumbering back to your room, collapsing onto your bed like a corpse and passing out immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow jack you didn't have to be such a little shit.
> 
> i swear i'll be writing longer chapters than this i swear---


	3. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i didn't expect this to get so much kudos (and three bookmarks?!?!?!) in one night !!! ! ! 
> 
> i've written stuff in the past, but none of them ever got this much readers so quickly!!!
> 
> holy shit, thanks a ton! seriously! i'm just ecstatic right now!!
> 
> anyways, enough rambling from me, here's the next chapter-
> 
> enjoy ~

Your alarm blared earlier than you would have liked. Grumbling, and reluctantly, you slipped out of your bed, well, more like fell out of your bed. It wasn't very graceful for all you knew.

Wincing, you rubbed your head, huffing in irritation as you wiped the tiredness from your eyes, a lazy arm reaching to turn the alarm off.

With a final yawn and a satisfying stretch, you stood up and fixed yourself up. Lately, you’ve been too tired to actually shake off your uniform before you passed out. It wasn’t like anyone was going to barge in at 5 in the morning anyways.

Satisfied with your appearance, you took one last look in the mirror and sighed.

Another grueling day on the field. Honestly, he’d work you to death if he had the chance.

Did you do something to offend him?

Look him in the eye?

Step into his personal space?

Did he try to talk to you but you were too occupied with your thoughts to hear him?

“Maybe this is his way of special treatment.” Mumbling, making your way to a nearby vending machine for breakfast. The cafeteria wouldn’t be open for a   
couple of hours, and by then you’d be working on your laps. Trudge after trudge after continuous trudge.

Well, you did sign up for this.

And beggars can’t be choosers.

Suddenly, furious irritation flooded within your veins, pumping with a raging annoyance that boiled in your blood.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice you were in front of your destination already.

“Oh.”

“Okay.”

Pulling out a bill, you decide on what you’d like for ‘breakfast.’

“Hmm…Well, I could have a chocolate. Haven’t had anything sweet in a while…”

You hadn’t really ate anything pleasant lately, you told yourself you deserved it for what you were going through.

“But a water sounds nice and refreshing…”

Pure. Clear. Cool when it cleanses your throat.

“Or a coke.”

The caffeine would wake you up much faster. Leaving the grogginess from your system.

“Meh.” Deciding on all three, you slip the money into the slot, only for the machine to malfunction, and freeze. Leaving you empty handed and instantly irate.

“What the hell?! Piece of shit!” 

Kicking was a mistake, because the tips of your toes screamed in pain the moment your kick retaliated, making you cradle your foot in your hands, limping on one leg, curses spewing from your mouth.

The sound of someone clearing your throat caused you to halt in your steps. Freezing, you turned your head slowly to peer at the person witnessing your (rather pathetic) situation.

Your (strike) commander stood, arms crossed over his chest in a ‘I’m-not-amused’ manner. One brow raised, questioning your current state. The smallest of frowns on his lips to indicate his disappointment.

“Apparently it seems like you can’t even fight a machine properly.” He stated with a monotone and blank face.

No shit Sherlock. You wanted to growl, but held back your tongue. So instead, you settled for lowering your head, staring at your shoes. 

He let out a final sigh, turning on his heels to leave you in your shame. But he didn’t exactly walk away yet, he spoke out calmly, yet, coldly, as if he didn’t   
care, “The moment you fight those omnics, you’re dead.”

That sent a somewhat painful shock through your body. 

But you supposed it was true. This only made you lower, if that was even possible.

How were you so…weak? And pathetic? Did he really see you so low he treated you like dirt?

Sure, he was the top dog around here, but that didn’t mean he walked on EVERYONE.

So why did he step all over you?

And why did you let him?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when you heard him call out your last name.

“Come on. We’re going to fix that.” He was looking over his shoulder, single blue visor over his bluer eyes, brows furrowed, as if he were judging you right now. Which he probably was for all you knew.

Straightening up, you nodded, a quick, hasty, ‘yes sir,’ tumbling awkwardly off your tongue. Clumsily stumbling after his calculated strides.

Just another day in Switzerland you supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes. jack. can you maybe chill?
> 
> (-hOW aBOUt MaYBE yOU cHiLL ?! ?!? !)
> 
> ahaha. anyways, thanks for reading! apologies if there were errors anywhere (it's late and i need to sleep now)
> 
> kudos and comments are EXTREMELY motivating! thanks a ton if you've already left some!!!


	4. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've actually been motivated to write this NOT at 3 am.  
> anyways thanks so so much for the kudos and everything else, it seriously puts a smile on my face 
> 
> ; U ;
> 
> anyways enjoy !

“Hey. Punk. Get up.”

You were roughly shaken from your slumber. That authoritative tone wracking you form your sleep.

“You’re late. You’re getting extra training as punishment.”

That made your eyes dart open.

And out of your bed. Not-so-gracefully falling to the hard floor.

He looked at you for a moment, up and down, and laughed, a noise that surprised you, not once you’d ever witnessed such a noise when you were in his   
presence.

“You were so dead-beat and tired you never shrugged out of your uniform?” A smile formed on his face. A hand going up to curl through his blond hair.

You grumbled, head held low, a small, ‘yes sir,’ tumbled tiredly off your lips. Did he really have to taunt you the moment you woke up?

He continued to laugh for a while, taking humor in your dazed, messy state. Your hair was in wild directions, bags heavy under your eyes, uniform full of creases.

How was this funny to him?

“Sir, if I may ask…” You ran a hand through your hair, placing a few stray locks behind your ear, looking up at him with hidden irritation in your eyes.

He stopped mocking you with that voice, and you found yourself actually finding it pleasant for once. A noise you can actually tolerate from him. You noticed him stiffen, brows furrowing into a soft narrow glare.

“Permission granted private.”

Instantly, you froze, unsure, and confused. 

Woah.

That was a first.

The last time he had called you that was when you were first introduced.

You shook yourself from your trance, and asked, “Does finding my miserable failures, mistakes and working me to the point of dying somehow please you?” You couldn’t contain your words right now, you were too tired of his shit.

That same smirk blossomed onto his face, and his arms crossed, “It does. Absolutely. One-hundred percent.”

You couldn’t contain the groan that left your throat, and your eyes slid down to the floor, finding interest in his boots.

“For making my morning private, you can rest all day.”

A double-take from you, and a mildly soft furrow of his brows from him, with a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked up at him in disbelief. 

Was he serious? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten 12 hours of sleep.

Trying to find out if he was playing with you, you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you for real?” You stared, mouth agape before you added a subtle ‘sir,’ to appease to his ‘better nature.’

His smile fell, replaced with a stern frown in a second.

“No.”

…

…

…

Fucking god dammit.

 

\-----

 

(The next morning-)

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

You heard your commander’s voice, stern, and all, well…commanding.

You grumbled, eyes fluttering open, only to take one look at the man standing above you, and to close them all over again.

“You’ve slept in.”

You peaked at the small clock beside your bed, it’s been one hour since training started. Subconsciously your eyes closed.

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Your eyes opened, sitting up quickly with a ‘sorry sir.’

In your slightly dazed, hazy and tired state, you looked up at the male, regretting your decision one you took in his appearance; usually you wouldn’t stare, but with his hair slightly ruffled, small beads of sweat rolling down his face, it was hard not to. You bit your lip, and looked elsewhere.

Your t-shirt was ruffled, showing a part of your stomach to the man above you. Muscles slowly forming due to the grueling exercises he put you through.

His attentive eyes roamed over your exposed skin, and quickly he looked elsewhere before you could catch his stare, glaring at the walls. 

“Just get ready kid.” 

And like that, he walked out of the room.

 

\-----

 

You looked in the mirror. Staring at the parts of you body that were forming with hard, well earned muscles. Wiping a towel over your forehead that was full of sweat. Heat was stirring in your body, butterflies fluttering around skittishly in your stomach. You couldn’t help but blush like a teenager while remembering today's exercise.

 

\-----

 

Pinned down to the ground. His body practically covering yours entirely. Toned chest flush with yours. Caging you underneath him. Underneath that intense, focused stare. Especially that damn, smug, victorious smirk on his lips.

The only thing separating you both were your thin, dark shirts. You remembered feeling just how fast his heartbeat was. Remembered just how…toned and firm beneath him. His breath tickling the sensitive spot on your neck.

“FUCK-!” You impulsively shouted, forcing yourself back to reality in front of your mirror.

You cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Body still shaking with adrenaline and…

Something else you were too embarrassed to admit.

Running a hand through your stiff hair, you sighed tiredly. Splashing your face with cold water, hoping to forget the entire scene that replayed constantly in your head.

You weren’t exactly adept at close, unarmed combat.

You’d admit it out loud. Yes. You were new to this. 

But did he REALLY have to spar you first? Use you as an example in front of every god damn recruit in training?

 

\-----

 

When his body left, so did the comfortable warmth that emitted from his chest, leaving you exposed to the cool air.

He stood, above you, triumphant and smirking. 

Told everyone, ‘That’s how it’s done.’ And told them to find a partner.

Then he folded his arms behind his back and left you on the ground.

Huffing, and puffing, tired and…

You were too scared to admit that you felt something else entirely.

You just hoped your face didn’t show your excitement too well underneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and sorry if there were any grammar errors!


End file.
